In the west of the city a vast red brick building, towering against the sky, closes the wide vista of the modern Via Dante. It stands for that storied stronghold and palace of the Visconti and Sforza, the Castello di Porta Giovia, whose rapidly vanishing remains, mutilated, ruined and buried beneath the additions and incrustations of five centuries of changing circumstance, have been very recently dug out and restored and rebuilt into the present interesting semblance of the fifteenth century original.

The Castello was first built by Galeazzo II. Visconte, in the latter half of the fourteenth century. Galeazzo’s stronghold incorporated one of the thirteenth century gates, the Porta Giovia—or, in Milanese, Zobia—which had kept the name of the corresponding gate in the Roman walls, named Giovia in honour of the Emperor Diocletian Jovius. It served at first solely for defence, and as a prison. Only a few years after its erection Galeazzo’s subtle son secured within its walls his first great prey—BernabÒ Visconte, his uncle and fellow-sovereign. The fortress did not then extend beyond the city walls; these with the moat formed its defence towards the country. But Gian Galeazzo constructed a second citadel beyond the walls and moat, enlarging the enclosure to the dimensions which they occupy to-day—and enclosing Porta Giovia and a portion of the city walls in the new precincts.

The Castello, so increased and strengthened, became the chief support of the tyrants of Milan. Its possession ensured dominion of the city. When Duke Giovanni Maria was murdered, the fortress was faithfully held against all attacks by Vincenzo Marliano for his lawful successor, Filippo Maria, who was able to enter through it into the seditious city at the head of an army and force the factions to accept his rule. This last of the Visconte sovereigns made his dwelling in the innermost keep of the Castle in gloomy seclusion, imprisoned by his own fears. His tyranny and dark habit of life invested the Castle with horror for his subjects, and immediately after his death they deliberately tore the great building down, stone by stone, at great cost. Only the foundations were left standing.

But for a very brief time did the Milanese see the free sky unobstructed by menacing towers. On the overthrow of the Ambrosian republic and the accession of Francesco Sforza, the Castle began to be rebuilt, and before long the great fortress, enclosed within much stronger defences than before, was again in existence. It is this Sforza building, with the additions made by Francesco’s sons, which we see in the restored Castello of to-day, though the brave new battlements and towers give a poor idea of the substance of those walls which amazed King RenÉ of Anjou when he visited the works with the Duchess Bianca Maria in 1453, and of a building celebrated by many writers as the strongest and proudest in the world.

The first architects—or ingegneri—were Filippo da Ancona and Giovanni da Milano. The latter was succeeded by Jacopo da Cortona in 1451. A year later the building was far enough advanced for the Castellan, Foschino degli Attendoli, to take possession. The day of his installation was of mystical import for the Duke, who chose a day approved by his astrologers, when the moon was waxing. Francesco, who desired to make his building beautiful as well as strong, engaged the Florentine architect Filarete to design and adorn a lofty entrance tower in the walls facing citywards. This tower, destroyed long ago by accident and time, is now represented by the modern Torre d’Umberto, in which it must be supposed that the architect has somewhat freely interpreted the scanty evidence in contemporary documents and drawings of the appearance of the original.^[25]

The usual quarrels arose between Filarete and his Lombard fellow-architects, whom the Tuscan scorned as mere masons. Their jealousy and impatience defeated his ideas, and he was finally compelled to abandon the work entirely to them. The Duke’s decorative projects indeed came to little. His order to Jacopo da Cortona to make windows, of such beauty of style and form as a work like this demands, in the outer faÇade was never fulfilled, perhaps because of the inconvenience of such openings in a defensive curtain, and it was left to the restorer in these peaceful days to insert the Gothic windows—elaborately ornamented in imitation of some of the old ones still remaining in other parts of the building—which now adorn the front.

After the first the work proceeded slowly, hindered by the quarrels of the architects, the irregularity of payments, and the dishonesty of those in charge. In 1454 the Duke’s military engineer, Bartolommeo Gadio of Cremona, was appointed to the chief post, which he held to the satisfaction of three successive despots till his death in 1484. Duke Francesco was destined never to inhabit himself this building which he had watched with such ceaseless interest, but when he died in 1466 it was complete in all its main features. Within the great walls which flanked Filarete’s tower and were guarded at the angles by two massive round towers lay the vast outer court, with fortified side gates, as well as the main entrance in the central tower. At the other end of this piazza rose a second mighty curtain of masonry, behind which lay the citadel, containing the Corte Ducale on the north side, and on the south a strongly defended inner enclosure, the Rochetta or innermost keep, the place of retreat in extremity. In this form we see the Castle to-day, though with all the defensive apparel which frowned from gates and tower and walls gone.

On the accession of Galeazzo to the dukedom, the Corte Ducale was completed with the utmost haste for his reception, and having settled himself there, the young tyrant gave rein to his extravagant passion for gorgeous decoration. While keeping architects and builders still continually at work on his new palace, he called painters from all parts of his state to fresco its walls, himself supplying the subjects. There is little doubt that everything possible to mortals was done to please a prince whose imperious will was supported by the torture chamber and the executioner, and that the palace was soon gay with the colour which he loved. Within its sumptuous halls Galeazzo entertained his guests with lavish splendour. Here Cardinal Pietro Riario was accorded pontifical state on his visit in 1473, and lay in a chamber so superbly adorned that no one had ever seen another so magnificent and princely, and here he and his host built up fantastic political schemes, which were to make the one monarch of Peter’s throne and the other king of all Italy—schemes drowned but a few days later in a poisoned cup offered to the mad young priest at a Venetian banquet.

The Duke continued the construction of the Rocchetta also, which his father had left unfinished, and gave orders for the decoration of the great Sala della Palla on its north-east side. But it is with the Corte Ducale that the fateful memories of this prince are especially associated. Thither he returned on the Feast of St. Thomas, 1476, with the glory of a victorious campaign freshly investing him, yet abstracted and pensive, possessed with a sense of the nearness of death, so that he bid the singers of his chapel to repeat every day in the midst of the joyful celebrations of the season, the mournful cry from the Office of the Dead, Maria Mater GratiÆ, Mater MisericordiÆ.... In the painted halls behind the chapel the usual Christmas ceremonies were carried out, and in the Sala dei Fazoli the Yule log was solemnly lighted upon the hearth in the presence of the tyrant and his family, and of all the great feudatories of state. In the Sala delle Columbine—painted with doves—the Duke, clad in a long crimson robe, entertained his courtiers on Christmas Day, and discoursed on the greatness of Casa Sforza, pointing out with unconscious irony how firmly its fortunes were assured in the many descendants of his father Francesco then existing in health and prosperity. We may picture his tall figure on the following day, clad in the doublet of crimson satin lined with sable, for which, with characteristic vanity, he had cast aside his cuirass, fearing to appear too stout if he wore the armour beneath; and in the long hose, one crimson, one white, worn by the princes of Milan, passing through the loggia, which still exists, though much restored, and down the great staircase into the courtyard, on his way to attend Mass in S. Stefano. He had kissed his little sons, and parted from them with a strange hesitation—this man who, as his daughter Caterina proudly declared, never knew fear. Mounting his horse in the outer court, he rode out beneath the Tower of Filarete, followed by a gorgeous throng of courtiers, and his brilliant figure disappears from the Castello for ever. Later on the same day a messenger passed out of the gate charged by Bona with three rings, a turquoise, a ruby, and a precious seal, and with a vest of white cloth of gold, for the adornment of his body, which lay laced with twenty-three dagger wounds, in the Canonica of S. Stefano.

With the death of Galeazzo, the historic interest of the Castello shifts to the Rocchetta. This inner keep has remained more in its old state than the Corte Ducale, and is the most picturesque part of the castle to-day. The cortile is one of those characteristic colonnaded buildings which are generally described as Bramantesque in Milan. Two of the sides of the quadrangle, however—to the left of and facing the entrance from the outer court—are of older date, having been built by Francesco and Galeazzo Maria respectively. The columns and capitals show the character of the early Renaissance in Milan; upon the capitals are carved the shields and various devices of the dukes. The other part was not finished till later. The lofty tower at the north-east angle, called the Torre di Bona, was built during the brief regency of Galeazzo’s widow, when Cecco Simonetta hastened to complete the defences of the Rocchetta in order to ensure her authority. This measure, however, only served for her undoing at the hands of Lodovico il Moro, who, having taken advantage of her weakness and folly to possess himself of the Rocchetta, the person of the little Duke, and, in consequence, of the supreme government of the state, made his abode in this, the heart and key of the whole stronghold.

During the first years of his rule Lodovico did little to the Castle beyond completing its defences. But as time went on he allowed himself to assume the splendour of a reigning prince, and to satisfy an artistic appetite as eager as Galeazzo’s and ordered by a finer discrimination. The great artists whom he called to his court were set to work to make the palace such a home of art and beauty as the world has rarely seen. Their services were required not only for lasting work, but to design the ephemeral decorations of the gorgeous state ceremonies in which the regent delighted to display the wealth at his command. The magnificent decorations for the coming of the young Duke’s bride, Isabella of Aragon, in 1489, were designed, it is said, by Leonardo da Vinci. The regent’s own approaching marriage with Beatrice d’Este caused a great ferment of artistic activity during the next year in the Rocchetta in preparation for her habitation there. With despotic impatience Lodovico summoned all the best “painters of histories”—depinctori de istoriade—to come to Milan within two days of his order on pain of heavy fines, and show designs for the decoration of the Sala della Palla. He himself describes the room in a letter to his brother Cardinal Ascanio. The ceiling was blue, with golden stars, in similitude of the heavens, and the walls were covered with pictures on canvas representing the exploits of Francesco Sforza, whose image on horseback beneath a triumphal arch was depicted at the upper end.

With the advent of Beatrice d’Este the Rocchetta became the scene of an incomparable gaiety. The young princess filled it with new life. Her extraordinary capacity for enjoyment never knew satiety, not even in the lengthiest of state functions, which she enlivened by teasing the hoary ambassadors who occupied the place of honour beside her. In the beautiful rooms prepared for her in the south-west side of the court she lived her brief enchanted existence in the midst of the most exquisite environment which her husband’s wealth and devotion and the fine art of the Renaissance could create for her.

How difficult it is to-day, in this exhumed corpse of her old home, these dry bones of the past, denuded of all their old richness of detail and decoration, to realise that vivid young presence. Yet the sun shines gloriously in the wide cortile this afternoon, making a stately pattern of light and shade in the arcades, and we recognise at least in the fair and spacious proportions of the building and the grace of sculptured column and curving arch, that Renaissance beauty of architecture which made it once a worthy setting for such a prince and princess as Lodovico il Moro and Beatrice d’Este.

During his regency the Moro spent enormous sums on the various works which he undertook in the Castle. He formed a vast piazza around it, in the midst of which he apparently intended to place Leonardo’s great equestrian statue of Duke Francesco. The clay model of this statue was in fact set up there on the occasion of Bianca Maria Sforza’s marriage with the Emperor Maximilian, and remained there till, with the passing of the Moro’s ephemeral glory, it too perished for the wanton amusement of a foreign invader. In 1494, when the death of Gian Galeazzo removed the last shadowy limitation of Lodovico’s sovereignty, the tyrant pressed on with new eagerness the incessant labours of his architects and engineers on the great building. The Rocchetta was finally completed by a portico on the north-east side; and among many other alterations and additions a set of exquisite camerini opening into a loggia were built across a bridge over the moat on the north-east side of the Corte Ducale. The picturesque exterior of this structure, which has been attributed to Bramante—groundlessly, it appears—may be seen in restored form to-day. The great gardens which extended on the north and west of the Castle were a special object of the Moro’s care. He enlarged them continually, absorbing without mercy all the Naboths’ vineyards adjacent. Both Leonardo and Bramante were employed by him at this time for various works in the Castello—chiefly of defence and utility—though Leonardo was also charged with the decoration of rooms in his character of painter. There are jottings in his notebooks referring to work of this sort, estimates in fact of the cost of the materials and labour required. Other existing documents show him frescoing the Sala delle Asse and a certain Saletta Negra in the Corte Ducale. But in spite of the most painstaking research and every effort of restoration, there is nothing now remaining in these rooms which can be considered Leonardo’s handiwork. Neither of Bramante is there any undoubted trace left, except a precious fragment of a painting in one of the rooms of the Rocchetta.

The sudden death of Beatrice in the early days of 1497 extinguished all the sunshine in the Castello. The labours of builders and artists still continued upon it. But it was to works of defence that the thoughts of the Duke were compelled now to turn almost exclusively. The peril of the French threatened the throne of the Sforza. Leonardo and the others were occupied in 1498 and 1499 in strengthening the fortifications and inventing new engines of defence, and the Rocchetta especially was rendered so strong that it was practically impregnable. Yet all this labour and care served only for the ruin of the Moro, and the advantage of his enemies. Afraid to trust himself within it, as we have seen, he abandoned it at the critical moment, leaving it in the hands of his faithless Castellan Bernardino da Corte, and deluding himself with the belief that he was turning his back upon it for an hour only, to return in triumph to its relief, he passed out of the gates for ever.

With the departure of Lodovico Sforza ended the good days of the Castello. Surrendered by Bernardino da Corte to the French, it was sacked of all its wonderful contents. Bernardino claimed as his share of the spoil all that Lodovico had not removed of the famous Sforza treasure, including priceless works of the goldsmiths’ art. Gian Giacomo Trivulzio seized the splendid tapestries. All the exquisite accessories of Beatrice’s short life, her costly robes, her instruments of music, her jewels, her beautiful books, were rudely shared between the various spoilers. What became of the pictures is unknown. The French captains occupied her private apartments, her delicate camerini, and the beautiful halls and courts where life had been practised as a fine art, were given up to coarse and drunken jollity, and defiled by the foul habits of the invaders. How deplorable the change in the eyes of the Italian princes and ambassadors who waited with servile deference upon Louis XII. during his stay in Milan is shown by many records. In the castello there is nothing but dirt and foulness, says a Venetian who was present then, such as Signor Lodovico would not have allowed for the whole world.

The Castle had now to serve the grim purposes of war, not of art and pleasure. For these it was well fitted, in the hands of determined defenders. The French chronicler, Jean d’Auton, who was in the train of Louis XII., describes with admiration its immense strength, its broad moats, its towers, ramparts, walls and outworks, its fortified gates, its sally ports and posterns, with the impregnable Rocchetta in its midst. If their effeminate stomachs had been swelled by manly hearts, says he, speaking of Lodovico’s garrison, well might they have held it long against every human power, for they had in their hands one of the most advantageous places in the world.... In such keeping is it now, he adds, that, in spite of all the winds, in every corner of its garden, the noble fleur-de-lys shall flower for ever. The fleur-de-lys was not, however, so fadeless as he boasted. But it bloomed undisturbed for twelve years, during which period the palace once or twice knew splendour and gaiety once more, as in 1507, when Louis XII. held his court there for a short time, and was waited on by cardinals, princes, and distinguished men from all parts of Italy. Then it was that Isabella d’Este danced with the king in the great ball-room in the Rocchetta, where her dead sister had presided. There, too, was Galeazzo di San Severino, once the most intimate friend of the now captive Moro and his wife, and now Grand Ecuyer to the usurper. The court poets, the musicians sang their venal praises as gaily for the new as for the old master, Leonardo, too, was there, in the service of the French king. For him one tyrant passed and another came; art alone endured.

The ravages in the palace were concealed by the gorgeous decorations. Two years later the king came again, and the company on this occasion was so superb that the meanest dresses were of brocade. These were but temporary liftings of the gloom. In 1512 the castle was besieged by the Holy League, and the French turned out. Again in 1515 it was retaken by the French, and the weak young Duke Massimiliano Sforza was replaced by the splendid Francis I., who rode in, fresh from his victory in the Battle of the Giants, beneath the usual arches of triumph. In 1521 a terrific explosion of gunpowder, lit it is said by a thunderbolt from a serene sky, destroyed the great Torre di Filarete, and killed the Castellan and a number of the garrison. A few months later the Castle was besieged by Charles V.’s army, and after fourteen months of heroic endurance, the French were again expelled. The reign of Francesco II. Sforza followed with all its terrible vicissitudes of war and siege and Spanish occupation. Bombardments, the necessity for new defences and alterations, the polluting presence of the Spaniards and lanzknechts wrecked ever more and more the proud habitation of the Sforza. A mocking reflection of its old glory brightened it for a few years after Duke Francesco’s reconciliation with the Emperor in 1530, and one or two splendid pageants were added to the long succession of gorgeous spectacles of which it had been the scene under the Sforza. These ended in 1535 in the melancholy ceremony of the last Duke’s funeral, when his dead body, or rather an image of it, arrayed in crimson velvet and scarlet hose, and a mantle of richest golden brocade, and crowned with the ducal beretta, was borne forth beneath a canopy of cloth of gold, by the doctors of the University, preceded by an endless train of friars and monks and clergy and black-hooded mourners carrying torches, and followed by kinsmen, ambassadors and nobles in sable robes reaching to the ground. The real body was carried out quietly to the Duomo the same evening. Thus in symbolic show and unreal grandeur the short-lived dynasty of the Sforza vanished out of this great fabric of its creation.

From this time the Castello ceased to be the chief palace of a sovereign prince. Under the Spaniards its precincts were enlarged and strengthened in the second half of the sixteenth century by an immense outer quadrangle of fortifications which completely altered its aspect. The changing conditions of warfare, and the advance of the science of fortification, brought continual additions and changes, and many of the beautiful constructions of the Sforza period were ruthlessly sacrificed. Yet the Castello remained for long one of the famous sights of Europe, and is described with admiration by many travellers.

In 1800 the fortifications built by the Spaniards were destroyed, and only the old Sforza nucleus remained, abandoned to natural decay, and converted later into barracks. It is from this fate that its ruins have been rescued and built up into the imposing edifice of to-day.

The stately halls of the Corte Ducale are now the home of the archÆological and artistic collections of the municipality. We have only space to mention shortly some of the most interesting objects as we pass through the rooms.

Sala I., once the office of the ducal chancellors, contains prehistoric, Etruscan, Greek and Roman antiquities, mostly dug up in Milan and its province. The beautiful torso of a Venus, with fragments of a Cupid and marine accessories forming a group with her, is the most precious relic yet drawn from the grave of imperial Milan. Another treasure is the base decorated with graceful fresco paintings, in excellent preservation, of Ceres, Fortune, Hercules and Victory.

Sala II., containing Lombard sculptures from the sixth to the thirteenth centuries shows the complete decay of the old Roman tradition and the rude early stages of the new era of art. The most interesting objects historically, and also as evidence of the extraordinarily barbarous state of Lombard sculpture in the twelfth century, are the bas-reliefs from the old Porta Romana, one of the gates built by the Milanese in 1171. They represent the return of the citizens after their expulsion by Barbarossa, and in the rows of rudely carved figures on the first pilaster we see on one side the Milanese knights and men-at-arms entering a gate, with the name Mediolanum above, marshalled by a priest bearing a banner; on another side the soldiers of the allied cities, issuing from gates, with Brisia (Brescia) and Cremona marked above; on another, women and horsemen and priests carrying the cross. A boastful inscription records the authors of the sculptures, Anselmo and Gherardo, and proclaims one a new DÆdalus, the other as being pollice docto, of cunning hand! On the other pilaster St. Ambrose is represented with scourge in hand driving out the Arians, and on another side are the citizens in procession, men with tools and chattels, women with babies.

A large figure astride a devil, supposed to be a satirical portrait of Barbarossa, was once on the same gate, together with an insulting figure of the Empress which is also in this room. Here is, besides that precious memorial of Milan’s freedom, the Stone of the Milanese Consuls, once fixed also on Porta Romana, a tablet recording the return of the people to their city in 1167, and the erection of the towers and gates, together with the names of the consuls.

The ceiling of this hall—one of the state rooms of the Sforza—shows traces of Renaissance painting—Cupids holding shields.

Sala III.—Fourteenth century sculpture by the Campionese masters. Here is the great sepulchral monument of BernabÒ Visconte, with an equestrian statue of him on the top, executed in his lifetime, probably by Bonino da Campione, the sculptor of the tomb of Cansignorio at Verona, which it resembles in style. In the reliefs the Pisan traditions of Giovanni da Balduccio are followed, but with the inferior ability and the heaviness and rigidity of the local school, and modified also by a tendency towards realistic expression and elaboration of the draperies, which develops later into the mannerism of the fifteenth century Lombards. The smaller monument of BernabÒ’s wife, Regina della Scala, is by the same school. The Dead Christ upon the front is, however, a more artistic piece of work than the same subject on BernabÒ’s tomb. The droop of the head and fall of the arms is expressed with truth and feeling, and the figures of Luke and John are excellent in their dignity and simplicity. The vaulted roof of this room is decorated with a fifteenth century fresco of the Resurrection by an inferior Lombard painter, and with the arms and initials of Galeazzo Maria Sforza.

Sala IV.—Works of the Campionese masters, among them the groups of Madonna and Saints, once upon the old Porta Orientale and Porta Romana. In the cortile is set up the magnificent marble portal of the palace built by Pigello Portinari in the reign of Francesco Sforza, to accommodate the Medicean Bank, and not long since pulled down. This beautifully proportioned doorway is attributed to Michelozzo. In the spandrils are profile busts of Duke Francesco and Bianca Maria. The heavy figures on the outer sides of the door are additions by some Lombard sculptor.

Sala V. consists of the upper half of the old ducal chapel. It still preserves, in much damaged condition, the ceiling fresco of God the Father in a blue sky with golden stars, which Galeazzo Maria commanded to be painted, and for which there was great competition between the court artists. It was finally done, in part at least, by Bonifazio Bembo, Stefano de’ Fedeli and Gio. Montorfano. A Resurrection is also dimly visible, and beneath the vaulting the Virgin and Angel of the Annunciation, with Saints half obliterated on the walls below. The room contains sculpture of the early fifteenth century, and an exquisite Renaissance doorway at the head of the room, and another from the palace of Ippolita Sforza in Piazza S. Giovanni in Conca, at the entrance into Sala X.

Sala VI.—The old Sala delle Asse—at present empty—has a grand ceiling decoration, purporting to be a restoration of the decoration done by Leonardo in this room for Lodovico il Moro, of which some supposed traces were discovered here.

Sala VII.—This, called the Sala dei Ducali, from the ducal shields with which the ceiling is painted, contains sculpture of the late fifteenth century. Here are some of the characteristic productions of the Milanese Renaissance sculptors, among them a tondo of the Nativity, an early and attractive work by Amadeo, in which the mannerisms, such as the paper-like folds of his draperies, are not yet unpleasantly evident; four pilasters, with reliefs attributed to Tommaso Cazzaniga; a little tabernacle in the window representing St. Sebastian, now attributed to Amadeo, to whom is also ascribed a little bas-relief of St. Cristopher, carrying a vivacious infant with a large head. There is also here a beautiful tabernacle, attributed to the Maestro di San Tommaso (so called from a work by him in S. Tommaso at Venice), and a bas-relief by the Florentine Agostino di Duccio.

Sala VIII.—The Sala delle Columbine of Galeazzo Maria’s time is decorated with the favourite ducal device of the dove in the midst of rays, and the motto A Bon Droit. It is devoted to the works of Amadeo and the sculptors of his time. Here are some characteristic pieces by the Mantegazza brothers, two kneeling saints, angular and unbeautiful, and four bas-reliefs from the old faÇade of S. Satiro, representing Sibyls, and the creation of Adam and Eve. In these a predilection for long and angular contours and exaggeratedly complicated folds are united to an energetic, almost violent expression. Two kneeling angels, once attributed to the Mantegazza, are probably by Amadeo, by whom also are the tondi with the Virgin and the Angel of the Annunciation, and probably the head of a boy, placed in the middle of the room, broad and realistic in style, and of vivacious expression, but without beauty. Of rich and exuberant fancy are the exquisite arabesques on some marble fragments supposed to belong to the Targhetta monument in the Duomo, sculptured by Amadeo. A tondo of the Nativity shows the fully developed manner of this master. There is also a bas-relief of Cain and Abel by Amadeo, as well as other things by him and his fellow sculptors.

Sala IX.—The Sala degli Scarlioni—of the Zigzags—painted with red and white stripes, contains sculpture of the rather later period of il Bambaia and Fusina. Here is Bambaia’s famous work, the recumbent statue of Gaston de Foix, from the hero’s monument in Sta. Marta, which was broken up and sold at the demolition of that church. The head is of classic beauty, and the whole figure shows a depth and sincerity of feeling to which we are hardly accustomed in this able but usually cold and uninspired artist. There are smaller fragments of the decoration of the same tomb on a stand close by. The casts in the cases are from reliefs also intended for this monument and now dispersed in various collections; they show in the detached style of the ornamentation and the confused design, a desire for novelty, unrestrained by artistic feeling. There are other works by this master, some of a classic grace, besides a number of other interesting things.

Sala X.—The lower half of the Capella Ducale exhibits a fine collection of the characteristic terra-cotta ornamentation of North Italy. In this delightfully plastic material, so rich and picturesque in colour, the Lombard decorative artists found a most happy medium for their art, which for the play of its exuberant gaiety and fancy needed a less severe material than marble. This wealth of exquisite fragments of decoration from old houses and convents gives some idea of the beauty which clothed the buildings of this city and its neighbours in the Gothic and Renaissance periods. Here are set up windows with rich mouldings such as may still be seen here and there about the city, but more and more rarely as time goes on and the beautiful old buildings fall one by one in that dreadful sounding process, the sventramento of the old crowded quarters. Here are some remains of the lately destroyed house of the Missaglia, a famous family of armourers in the fifteenth century, whose monogram appears upon a capital, and fragments from the beautiful Banco de’ Medici, of which some drawings are also shown. The charming fresco of little Gian Galeazzo Sforza, reading Cicero, by Bramantino, now in the Wallace Collection, came from this palace.

Mounting by the grand staircase and passing through the Loggia di Galeazzo Maria, we enter the great Sala Verde of the ducal days, which now contains a fine collection of majolica; ivories of the Roman and MediÆval eras; Limoges enamels; some beautiful sixteenth and seventeenth century glass, besides other things.

Sala II.—Here are some very beautiful crucifixes and sacred vessels, examples of goldsmiths’ work of the Gothic and Renaissance periods; bronzes of later date; seventeenth century tapestries, etc.

Sala III. and Sala IV. contain carved and inlaid furniture—cornices, panels of altarpieces, etc. A carved altar frame of richest Renaissance style, with little paintings of saints at the corners, is a Lombard production of the fifteenth century.

Sala Milano.—This room is chiefly occupied with drawings and paintings of the buildings of old Milan, and mementoes of her history. Beneath the ceiling are ranged charming fresco portraits of the Sforza, by Luini, taken from a house in Corso Magenta. They are of course chiefly fancy presentments of those historic personages. The great silken standard of St. Ambrogio, partly needlework, partly painted in tempera, of the sixteenth century, hangs on the wall. A very interesting little painting on wood, much damaged, depicts Galeazzo Maria Sforza, his son Gian Galeazzo, and lastly Lodovico il Moro, following one another in order of rank on horseback, fully armed and accompanied by their pages. Their arms and special devices are painted on the trappings of their horses. It is a work evidently of Galeazzo Maria’s time.

Sala VII.—Here we enter the Pinacoteca, which contains a small but very valuable collection of the Lombard and other North Italian Schools.

Martyrdom of S. Sebastian by Vincenzo Foppa is an impressive work. The artist’s tendency to dark and grey tones is carried to an extreme, and the effect is gloomy, almost tragic. St. Ursula and her Virgins by Moretto. The saint in her flowing draperies, holding the banners, is a noble figure, and the colour is good, with that opaque quality peculiar to this Brescian artist.

Sala II.—Large altarpiece by Borgognone, Madonna with SS. Sebastian and Jerome, is in his usual gentle and devout manner. Buttinone, a series of small scenes from the New Testament, showing all his peculiar mannerisms; the action of the rather grotesque figures is decidedly vigorous. Vincenzo Foppa, a small Madonna picture, has all the painter’s strong characteristics. The string of corals reminds one of his Paduan training. Gianpietrino, a picture of the Magdalen, his favourite subject, is better drawn and modelled than his figures sometimes are, and less morbid in the flesh tones. Sodoma, a very theatrical S. Michael. Boltraffio, Madonna and Child of his usual type, and rather hot colour, and two panels of Saints, with well-painted profile portraits of donors. Correggio, Madonna and Child, with little S. John is a particularly gracious composition. She looks down with a sad half smile at the children, who have the childish charm which Correggio depicts with such subtle mastery. It is a picture to sit down in front of and enjoy. By Carlo Crivelli there are two Saints, S. John with finger on lip, holding a book, and S. Bartholomew holding a knife and book. Antonello da Messina, a fine portrait of a dark man crowned with a green wreath. On the other side of the room there is a splendid portrait by Tintoretto of Doge Jacopo Soranzo, an old man in deep wine-coloured dress. Moroni, a portrait of a man in black with white ruff. Il Bassano, a man in elaborately ornamental armour. Antonio Pordenone, a fine portrait of a man with a small dog, a Titianesque landscape showing through the window. By Bernardino Licinio is a beautiful portrait of a fair, golden-haired woman, in rich black velvet dress embroidered in gold. She holds a picture of a man, and a lovely landscape of water and hills and sky shows through the window. This work has all the warmth and glow of the best period of Venetian painting. Cariani, a realistic portrait of a stout woman painted in a masterly manner. In interesting contrast to these splendid, generous, if decidedly sensuous paintings, is the small portrait by Lorenzo Lotto of a young man. It is not only the great subtlety and delicacy of treatment, the arrangement of cool flesh tones, grey dress and blue background, but the individuality of facial expression that most distinguishes it from contemporary painting. The artist has analysed the character of this youth and given us a psychological study. Mr. Berenson calls this picture ‘artistic’ in the French sense of the word and unexpected as a work of the Renaissance.^[26]

On the walls are placed frescoes by Foppa and the early Milanese school, removed from demolished churches. Some beautiful miniatured books, Corali, Missals, Lives of the Saints, Bibles, etc., are ranged down the middle of the room on screens.

A small door at the end of this room opens into a way which leads by narrow staircases and passages and by a sort of drawbridge through the Torre di Bona into the Rocchetta. It was across here, by ways very strongly defended and almost impossible to force, that the little Duke Gian Galeazzo was hurried into the keep when he was stolen from his mother by the emissaries of Lodovico il Moro. The great rooms of the Rocchetta, once sacred to the fortunate existence of Lodovico and Beatrice, and now completely restored, contain the collections of Modern Art and the Museum of the Risorgimento, which is filled with deeply interesting memorials of that great recent moment of Milan’s history, when she showed herself splendidly true to her grand traditions as the leader of the Lombard League seven hundred years earlier. There is something curiously suggestive in the presence of these memorials here in the old home of Lodovico il Moro, who represents the height of the tyranny to which the city succumbed in the intervening centuries. As we glance round these renovated rooms we realise how victoriously she has at last swept that tyranny and all its sins and evil memories away, sacrificing with it inevitably the artistic and decorative beauty which partly redeemed it.

In the Sala del Tesoro, on the ground floor, where modern sculpture is now exhibited, will be found the remains of a fresco by Bramante, representing Argus, a magnificent warrior figure, fit guardian of this chamber, which once held the famous treasure of the Sforza.